


And a Filthy Pout

by Murf1307



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Femme!jolras, Homophobia, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, M/M, Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:00:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murf1307/pseuds/Murf1307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras wears lipstick to school one day.  Grantaire spends the better part of that day sexually frustrated to hell and back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And a Filthy Pout

**Author's Note:**

> I found the first half of this on my phone and had no memory of having written it. So I finished it and am posting it now. I hope people like it.

Enjolras looks gorgeous in lipstick.

It had been Cosette’s idea, and her doing.  Enjolras has never gone quite this far with subverting gendered expectations of clothing and cosmetics, and he doesn’t seem to realize that he is terrifyingly beautiful in it – the shade is bloody red, standing out against his pale skin and golden hair.

 

Grantaire has spent the entire day trying not to sport a truly uncomfortable, inappropriate erection.

“Faggot,” someone mutters in the hall as Enjolras passes by in high-heeled combat boots and that fucking lipstick, and Grantaire steels himself for the inevitable tongue-lashing the bastard in question is about to receive.  Enjolras, after all, has always been his most gorgeous when he’s speechifying, pontificating for justice.

Enjolras, though, he just smirks.  “What, because of the lipstick?  Or is it the heels?  Neither of those means that I’d like to be fucked in the ass.”

Grantaire sucks in a breath.  Enjolras doesn’t curse, and right now, he sounds harsh and dirty and Grantaire isn’t going to be able to look at him for a year at this rate, because holy shit does Enjolras sound and look incredible.

“Of course, it may well be that I want to get fucked in the ass, but you can’t tell that by the way I choose to perform my gender,” he continues.  “So calling me ‘faggot’ is pointless; all it does is out you as a bigoted slimeball who’s so insecure about his own adherence to societally ideal masculine norms that he can’t handle even seeing a boy who looks a little like a girl.”  He pauses, smirk widening wickedly.  “Are you scared you want to fuck me?”

The other kid snarls and shoves Enjolras against the lockers.  “You cocksucking little –“

“Is that what you want?” Enjolras muses, not really fighting it.  “My red, red lips stretched around your cock, just to see if it would feel the same as a girl?”

“Slut!”

“You don’t know that,” Enjolras says, leaning in close to the bastard’s mouth.  “And you won’t, because I’d never condescend to fucking someone like you,” he whispers.

The guy backs away, fear flashing in his eyes.  “I ain’t no fucking faggot!”

“Then stop calling me one.”

Enjolras pushes off the wall and continues down the hallway.  Grantaire follows, swallowing down yet another wave of sexual frustration.

They only make it halfway to class before Grantaire can’t take it anymore.

Enjolras doesn’t know that Grantaire’s been into him for over a year now, and that this whole day has been the most exquisite fucking torture. 

He can’t hold it back anymore, because  _shit_ , he’s never going to be able to get the sound of Enjolras talking about sex out of his head now, and it’s taking everything in him not to be visibly hard because of it.

“What the hell was that,” he asks hoarsely.

Enjolras glances at him.  “I was feeling bold.”

“Bold is a word, I guess,” Grantaire mumbles back.  “Considering you just  _dirty-talked a homophobe_  into leaving you alone in the middle of a crowded school hallway.”

“When you put it like that, ah.”  Enjolras starts blushing.  “Maybe a bit more than bold.”

Grantaire shakes his head.  “His sexuality crisis is going to be legendary.”

Enjolras laughs.  “You really think he was attracted to me?”

Grantaire stares at him like he has no sense in his head because, well,  _duh._   “Enjolras, I’m pretty sure that he would have to be really, really asexual to not be attracted to you.  Do you actually look at yourself in the mirror, or is all of this totally accidental?”

Enjolras blinks.  “Grantaire,” he asks, almost biting his lip.

“Yeah?”

“Areyouattractedtome?”

Grantaire can’t help the blush that suffuses his face, because this is Enjolras.  Who sounds nervous and almost  _hopeful,_ and Grantaire has to wonder if this is actually happening.

“Um.  Yeah.”

And Enjolras  _lights up_  like it’s the friggin’ Fourth of July, and he grabs Grantaire’s hand and pulls him down a hallway,  _away_  from where their class is.  Grantaire follows, because he’s still not sure if he hasn’t fallen into some alternate universe.

There’s an empty storage closet and Enjolras pulls him into it, closing the door behind them before pressing Grantaire against the wall.

And Grantaire is gone, because too much of Enjolras is pressed up against too much of him – he’s pretty sure he’s going to die in this storage closet and he absolutely does not give a damn.

“Do you mind if I kiss you?” Enjolras asks, and his cheeks are red in the dim light cast by the overhead bulb that’s very close to failing.

“Please,” Grantaire manages, and Enjolras does.

It’s a hard kiss, almost brutal, almost bruising, and Grantaire moans softly into it.  Enjolras fists a hand in his hair and shoves his knee between Grantaire’s thighs. 

Grantaire’s the one who swipes his tongue across Enjolras’s lower lip, though, and they make out like that for a minute or two, sloppily rocking against each other and stifling each others’ groans with their mouths.

Then Enjolras pulls back and leans to whisper in Grantaire’s ear, “I really want to — frankly, I want to suck you off.”

Grantaire shudders. “Won’t last very long,” he manages.

“I know,” Enjolras whispers, dragging his lips down Grantaire’s neck. “I just want to see you come and have it be my fault.”

“What about you,” Grantaire says, squirming a little.

“After school. My house, if you want.” Enjolras draws his fingertips down the front of Grantaire’s t-shirt.

“Okay,” Grantaire says, hitching his hips up. “Please.”

And Enjolras drops to his knees right there. Grantaire clamps a hand over his own mouth because he gets the feeling that otherwise the whole school will know what’s happening here.

“I’ve never done this before,” Enjolras says as he undoes Grantaire’s fly and shoves his pants and underwear down around his thighs. “Been thinking about it for months now, though.”

Grantaire can’t stifle the whimper that escapes him when Enjolras’s breath ghosts over his cockhead. Enjolras notices, and breathes a little heavier before kissing the very tip of it. “I think you might be bigger than me,” he admits before taking the head into his mouth.

Enjolras almost whites out the world with pleasure, and Grantaire hasn’t even come yet. He ‘s close though, achingly close.

It only takes a few moments of this for Enjolras to work his way down Grantaire’s shaft and then back up again before finding a rhythm; Grantaire bites the back of his wrist to keep from moaning.  

When he comes, he finds he’s never come so hard and so fast.

It takes him a second to clear his own head enough to look down at Enjolras, who is staring up at him like he’s trying to memorize him.  There’s a moment of quiet, and then Enjolras admits, “I’ve never done that before.”

Grantaire laughs weakly.  ”Neither have I.”

“Was it good?”  Enjolras is flushed and his lipstick is smeared —  _badly_  — and he looks almost nervous.

“It was brilliant,” Grantaire manages, reaching with shaky hands to tuck himself back into his pants.  ”Jesus Christ, that was brilliant.  You’re brilliant.”

Enjolras smiles.  ”So, um.  My place, after school?”

Grantaire nods, and it’s starting to hit him, as he comes down out of the post-orgasm haze, what they’ve just done.   _Shit._

“So…” he says, rolling the syllable.  ”Are we a thing now?”

“Do you wanna be a thing?” Enjolras asks carefully.  ”I — I’d like to be a thing.  Not just a sex thing, though.”

Grantaire grins.  ”Definitely not just a sex thing.”

Enjolras blushes.  ”Oh, good.”

Grantaire’s smile softens.  ”Yeah, good.”

He pulls Enjolras into a gentle kiss this time, warm with the memory of a searing orgasm and with the knowledge that his feelings are returned.

He’s gonna have to send Cosette flowers or something.


End file.
